


Jyana

by SwampQueen (little_valkyrie)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Pre - Robert's Rebellion, Pre-Canon, Robert's Rebellion, Tumblr Roleplay, brief appearances by others - Freeform, mentions of the sad stuff that happened in the rebellion, nothing is graphic or descriptive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 15:02:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3213482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_valkyrie/pseuds/SwampQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Jyana Reed came to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jyana

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this for my RP stuff on tumblr. based off of a crack theory of who jayana reed is and who ashara dayne's bastard is. wrote in a style for those who may uses this for RP are not stuck in heavy characterizations or dialogue.

Jyana Sand had been the name of a maid at Starfall. She had been a little thing with swarthy skin and dark hair and eyes of the deepest, warmest brown. She was plain but still a pretty girl with a warm smile and freckles. That was who Ashara wanted to be as a girl, free to play with whoever she pleased and sit and build houses out of the mud until the sun set and sleep under the stars if she pleased. She wanted that freedom.

The day she was named as Elia Martell’s lady in waiting was a grand occasion. Her brother joined the Kingsgaurd to stay near her, Elia was kind and bright and a delight to become friends with, and the other ladies were joys too. But King’s Landing reeked of decay and bubbling tension behind the walls. Things were not right.

And freedom the Fallen Star, as men and women in court had taken to calling her to compliment her beauty, had all but gone. Only her private thoughts were her own now, and she would sit and sew lost in them thinking of little mud brick houses until she would prick her finger and notice that her stiches were crooked. Sewing had never been her art, writing and dancing were, but both were dangerous hobbies when the princess and her Dornish ladies already dealt with the suggestions that they were of poor moral character due to where they came from. Too many books were seen as a poor sign in a gently bread woman and dancing was a way to tempt unwanted advances from lords.

Only her sister ladies in waiting, Elia, Arthur, and Ser Barristan called her by her name. She was so glad when they were able to go back to Dragonstone, though the damned place caused havoc on Princess Elia’s health. They were there for the birth of her children though which brought much joy to the thick, cold walls of the castle. The excitement was all about when they found there was to be a tourney at Harrenhal.

She didn’t like to think about what happened there. Too much sadness and too much went wrong and nothing was right after that. But she remembered the dance fondly.

There had been a ruckus early in the day when a bannerman of the Starks had been in trouble with the squires of a few Riverland knights and had to be rescued by a maid. But she chuckled when she heard that instead of berating the girl for picking up a sword he had become her loyal companion and many predicted by the end of the night that Lyanan Stark might have claimed a mudman for a betrothed, or at least a suitor. She had danced with her brother (who was on edge), Elia’s younger brother (who was a flirtatious delight as always) , Lord Connington (who was rude), and Eddard Stark (who was painfully shy and blushing the whole time and stepped on her slippers twice). But the small man with the short beard and hair knotted tight behind his head was who watched her through every dance.  She caught his eyes briefly in the light and found them to be a shade of green she had never seen before, not on a man at least. When she visited Sunspear to spend time with Elia there was a snake she saw in her room and the green of its eyes were like that of the mudman’s.

She had not had the freedom she needed in years and tonight in the chaos of the tourney Ashara let the other eleven ladies stay with Elia to keep her comapany. It was strange to be wandering in the Godswood, it was eerie and she felt like eyes were on her but she found the odd little man kneeling by one of the ghastly trees and knocking on the wood she disturbed his prayer. She found his name was Howland Reed, a lord and heir to The Neck. He looked up at her and his eyes were as dark as the woods around them and boldly asked her to dance. When she said there was no music he told her to shut her eyes and listen, the bugs and creatures of the night hummed soflty in the darks and soon she could hear his voice too. It wasn’t a good voice like Rhaegar’s, it rather sounded like a frog croaking. She laughed at him but reached out to take his hand and lead him in a Dornish dance she wouldn’t dare do in front of those other lords lest the use it to make jest after her lady or her country men. But as she pulled him close the top of his head barely reached her chin and she resisted the urge to kiss the crown of his head but started on the steps.

He was a quick learner and light on his feet. He kept singing the song she had never heard that must have been of his people and they kept moving in the starlight. Ashara decided on impulse that she wanted this man and leaned down to take his lips and they fell together under the tree of his gods. Due to the flurried events of the rest of the tourney she wasn’t able to talk to him again but did take great joy in watching the knights prostrate themselves to the Crannogman in their defeat by the mystery knight.

It was back to Dragonstone then and as soon as she was discovered with child they tried to get her to drink the tansy tea bout she gave every cup to the house plant in her room. The act that led to this babe was one of the first things she had ever done by her own accord and the gods would have to take her if they wanted this child too. So she was sent back to Starfall but gave birth along the way. She never heard any of the rumors about her and her babe until after the war but those who helped deliver her thought her dead. They went to a muddy lake to wash the babe so Ashara could say good bye to the stillborn but once under the water the little girl blew bubbles and popped her green eyes open like a fish or a frog.  

The time on the road was the best of her life: she got to nurse the bastard as she pleased, she got to say and do as she pleased to those who were escorting her, she felt guilt openly as the war started and she was nearly home. She hoped from word from her brother but only got that he had been sent to the tower of joy. At home she felt so alone and so judged and ostracized. She couldn’t even take solace in the common girl she used  to play with, Jyana Sand had died of sleeping sickness sometime when she had been at Dragonstone.  Ashara had not named the babe yet but possibly the girl could be all that she had wanted and not able to; to play in the dirt and the mud and not be part of the game of thrones.

They took Jyana and gave her to a wet nurse to try and take away some of the damage to Ashara’s reputation. It was for the best because after hearing Elia’s fate she was so grieved she could not even think of feeding herself, much less a babe. Things only got worse when there was no word from her brother but the tale had spread that the Tower of Joy had been burned and fallen. Her depression only deepened and often found her staring out at the sea and sleeping more than anything else.

The day Ned Stark arrived with two men and her brother’s sword was the final straw. She asked for Jyana to be brought to her room, she wanted to be able to say goodbye. She cried to the little baby that she was sorry she wasn’t strong enough to live with all this death. That she was sorry that she would never get to meet her father, he had been kind and sweet. Only a pair of hands on her arms pulled it out of it and she grabbed the penknife from the table as she turned. She recognizes a scar on the hand as her brothers and drops the knife to cry in his arms as he tried to explain what happened. But she’s distracted by the cooing from the basket and the smaller figure leaning over it. She was about to pull the stranger away but he moved from the shadows with a queer, crooked grin. Jyana had his mother’s eyes he explained, and that if she didn’t want her he could take her so she could live her life as she pleased. She would have her uncle to keep her safe, but Arthur asked her to come with them.

It was all happening too fast she didn’t know what to think.  But they both stayed the night with her, and answered every question she had over what befell those she had known and loved. By morning’s light Ashara had learned that horrible truth of what happened in the war. She had also learned that her little babe had a laugh like the mudman’s and that her grandmother’s name was Meera. As the sun rose over the horizon she had made her choice.

From Starfall left Eddard Stark, the diminutive Howland Reed, and two retainers wearing hoods over their heads. Some said the sound of two different cries were heard as well but none were too concerned with that as it was clear Ashara had thrown herself from the highest tower into the ocean. The group left without notice and many forgot to notice that Ashara’s bastard, which they had tried so hard to hide, was gone as well too.

Names were always important. A Snow that wasn’t, a Sand turned Reed, and a Fallen Star dragged a man from The Neck and declared before the old gods that her name was Jyana Sand from here on out and that her babe was Meera in her stead. When asked why he should witness it the mudman received the answer that of anyone those present he had given her a choice. She bent to kiss his cheek and went to feed the babes.

 It was two years later she would drag him to a godswood in the swamps and change her and her babe’s names again.

Jyana watched with true happiness as her Meera ran through the mud after some poor lizard and fell face first only to rise with a crooked grin. Howland had found a landing with two strong beams and wove her a hammock so she could sleep under the stars anytime she wished. The Neck was strange, and dangerous, and often not near enough to eat, but it was the only place she had ever felt free even if she knew that she could never leave.


End file.
